#because i LOVE THE MOVIE it originates from

[flowersforbucky]

omg??? omg to all of this?? i absolutely did read every word of that - at 3 in the morning actually, when i was half asleep. and then again when i woke up today. thank you SO much for all of that, you have no idea how much it means! i don't ever *expect* long reviews of my fics but geeez i always appreciate reblogs like this so much 🫶🏻 especially when it's on a fic that was posted over half a year ago like... just makes my whole week 😭

you should definitely read the hunger games! at least the og trilogy! i haven't read a ballad of songbirds & snakes, or sunrise on the reaping (i am going to read sunrise on the reaping very soon) so i can't speak for how those two books are - but the original trilogy is incredible, and all of the movies are amazing too. unfortunately they did NOT include the "remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it" quote in the movie and i was SO bummed by that because it's one of my favorite lines from the first book, lol. but they are definitely still worth reading/watching! very well written books and the message behind them so important - now more than ever 🥲

thank you so much again for every word of that 💖💖💖

love language

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.6k

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

“remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

warnings/tags: smut, oral, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, wound care, brief uses of alcohol, anxiety and self-doubt, language, reader is afab, avenger!reader, fluffier than what i typically write, undercover mission, friends to lovers!!! 18+ only

Acts of Service

“Exciting Friday night?” Your head snaps up at the masculine voice. You nearly slosh hot tea on both yourself and the pages of the book that lay open in your lap. You're surprised to see him - as far as you were aware, Bucky and Sam were in Munich. You didn't think they were supposed to be back in the country for another two days.

“Something like that,” you answer, regaining your composure as you bring the mug to your lips. “What are you doing back so early? Did recon go okay?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh as he plops down into the recliner, adjacent to where you're curled up on the sofa in the compound’s communal living room. His eyelids look heavier than normal, with dark circles underneath that aren't typically present. You place your cup of tea on the end table next to you and close the book before angling your body towards him, giving him your undivided attention.

“It was a shit-show,” he answers bluntly, voice laced with defeat. “HYDRA had the drop on us from the minute we entered Germany. What was supposed to be us just gathering intel turned into an ambush. One minute, it was just the two of us in an old warehouse, and then the next..” he trails off, eyes locked on one of the buttons of his tactical pants that he’s fidgeting with. “We’re lucky to have made it out. Sam was taken to med-bay as soon as we got back. Broken arm and collarbone, dislocated shoulder, possibly a few fractured ribs..” he lists off the injuries.

“Jesus,” you cringe, a death grip on the book in your hands as you listen to him summarize the mission. “Looks like you came out pretty unscathed in comparison.” You glance him over from head to toe, relieved to see no visible wounds or bruises.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, sitting forward and pulling the collar of his black t-shirt over to expose his right shoulder. Your eyes bulge when you see the obvious knife wound that the fabric had been concealing. “Not completely unscathed.”

“Holy shit, Bucky, why didn’t you go get this stitched up?” You stand up quickly, your book falling forgotten to the floor as you step closer to him to inspect the cut. There’s dried blood covering the surrounding skin of his chest and shoulder, with fresh blood still seeping from the opening of the wound. Even with the luxury of the Quinjet, a direct flight from Germany to New York is at least eight hours, who knows how long the cut had been steadily oozing–

“The bleeding has slacked off for the most part at this point,” he tries to assure you, attempting to cover the wound back up with his shirt. His shirt that, upon closer inspection, is thoroughly soaked through with blood. You all but smack his hand away so that you can continue to inspect the cut.

“It’s too deep,” you shake your head. “It needs stitches.”

“It’ll be fine by morning–” he starts to argue with you, but you’re already walking away from him, exiting the room to retrieve a first-aid kit kept in one of the shared bathrooms just down the hallway. Though you can’t currently see him, you have no doubt that he is shaking his head and rolling his eyes at you.

Before returning to the living room, you stop by the kitchen and grab a cold can of Blue Moon to help take the edge off. Upon reentering the living room, you find that he’s hunched over where he sits in the recliner, leaning forward to grab your book from where it had fallen on the rug.

“What were you reading before I so rudely interrupted you?” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in a smirk as he inspects the cover of the book.

“The Hunger Games,” you answer simply as you place the first-aid kit on the couch and hold out the beer to him. He accepts the drink, a small, surprised smile appearing on his face.

“Shirt,” you instruct a second later, turning to him with a warm, wet rag that you intend to clean some of the dried blood off with. Surprisingly, he obliges your request, placing both the beer and the book in his lap to pull the bloodied fabric over his head.

“And what exactly is The Hunger Games about?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He flips it over, skimming the words on the back cover.

“The Hunger Games,” you begin as you delicately swipe the damp washcloth across the dirty skin around his wound, watching as the material turns from white to pink as it collects the old blood. “Are dystopian fiction novels. The books get their title from an annual event in which a boy and a girl, ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen, from twelve different districts are selected by name-drawing to compete in a fight to the death. Twenty-four go into an arena, one comes out.”

“Sheesh,” Bucky grimaces and pops the tab to the beer. You turn away from him, placing the soiled washcloth on the table next to him before retrieving some disinfectant from the kit. “And what’s the point in having a bunch of children kill each other?”

“Punishment and control,” you shrug, pouring some of the clear liquid on a large gauze pad until it’s soaked. He gives you a vague nod, signaling he’s ready for you to clean the wound. You dab the drenched cotton along the opening of the wound, wincing more visibly than Bucky does himself. “The districts where the children are reaped from have had uprisings against the nation’s Capitol in the past. The games are to punish them, as well as to remind them what power the Capitol holds.”

Bucky’s brows furrow together, contemplating your words. You make the initial incision for his stitches and he lets out a grunt of discomfort. “Sorry,” you mumble, concentrating on the stitchwork.

“So what happens?” He asks after a few moments of silence, obviously trying to distract himself from the needle going in and out of his tender flesh as he sips on the amber colored liquid. “The group of kids rebel and take down the Capitol?”

“You’re not too far off,” you chuckle lightly. “I guess you’ll just have to read them for yourself to find out.”

“I suppose I will,” he says, eyeing your needlework from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me borrow your copies when I finish The Lord of the Rings?”

“You’re reading The Lord of the Rings?” you fail at hiding your tone of surprise, more focused on finishing suturing his cut.

“Don’t act so shocked,” he feigns insult. “I read when I have the free time to do so.” He turns his head towards you for the first time since you began stitching, causing you to realize just how close his face is to your own. You push down the fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach at the close proximity, clearing your throat as you turn to grab a pair of small medical scissors. You clip the thread before backing away from him.

“That should hold you together well enough until your supernatural super-soldier healing abilities take care of it while you sleep.”

He stands from his position in the recliner, holding out your book to you. “Thank you,” he tells you sincerely. “For the stitches, and the beer.”

“Of course,” you say as you take your book back from him. “Don’t want you getting blood all over the compound.”

“I think I’m gonna go check on Sam,” he sighs. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Get some rest!” you demand as he retreats to the hallway.

“Yes ma’am,” he calls without looking back, his Brooklyn drawl making an appearance.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your book and not the way you felt when his plush pink lips and cerulean blue eyes were just inches from your face.

Receiving Gifts

One week later

Punctuality has never been your strong-suit, but you didn’t expect to be the very last person to arrive at Bucky’s birthday party - get together, as he insists on calling it, since he feels silly having a birthday party at over one hundred years old. However, as you’re approaching the pavilion at the compound’s lake, you see that all of your friends are already mingling comfortably.

Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda wave at you from where they lounge next to the bonfire, Steve and Sam are engaged in an intense game of beer pong (which Sam seems to be doing impressively well at, considering one arm is still in a cast and sling), Clint and Bruce are playing cornhole - everyone is here, though you don’t see the one person you came for.

You make your way over to a picnic table closer to the lake that has been dedicated to presents so that you can add yours to the pile. You had ordered the gift a week ago, the same night that you had stitched up Bucky’s shoulder wound, and it arrived just in time - in today's mail, only an hour ago.

Hence the reason you are the last to arrive with a shittily-wrapped present in hand.

“Is that Avengers wrapping paper?” You whirl around at the amused voice to see Bucky walking towards you.

“That it is,” you confirm. “You and I aren't featured, though. Just the OGs,” you shrug, staring down at the cartoon depictions of Steve and the others.

“I was starting to wonder if you weren't going to come.” He says lightheartedly, nodding in the direction of everyone else.

“Your present didn't get delivered until the last minute,” you explain, giving the box-shaped object in your hand a shake. “Didn't want to show up empty handed.”

“You didn't have to get me a gift at all,” he says reassuringly, but eyes the present curiously. “But since you almost missed my party over it, I should open it right away.” He holds his hands out expectantly, almost childlike.

You roll your eyes, handing over the poorly packaged present. You had never been the best at gift-wrapping, usually preferring to reuse bags.

“I did not almost miss your party. It's just now eight o'clock,” you defend yourself, staring at the sun that's just starting to set over the lake's horizon, painting the New York sky in hues of orange and purple.

He smirks, walking past you to place the present on the table. You watch as he rips the wrapping paper away unceremoniously, until the gift is revealed.

“I know you had asked to borrow my copies,” you begin, suddenly feeling nervous as you watch him look over the box set of the first edition of The Hunger Games trilogy. “But my copies are old, and tattered, and have been annotated to shit, so.. I thought maybe you'd like your own,” you shrug nonchalantly.

He studies the box, pulling out the first book and glancing it over with a look you can't quite decipher. There's a faint hint of rose on his cheeks, and the lines around his eyes crinkle when he turns his head to look at you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft, earnest smile. “This is incredibly thoughtful of you. I'm going to start reading them–”

“This pizza is getting cold!” You hear Sam's voice bellow from under the pavilion a few yards away. “I'm about to dig in with or without the birthday boy.”

You exhale through your nose, a half laugh, half sigh and look at Bucky expectantly. “Pretty sure you're the only birthday boy here.”

“I guess that's my cue,” he sighs as he places the books with the rest of his unopened gifts. “Thanks again, really. It's my favorite gift,” he adds with a sly grin as he begins to walk towards Sam and the table of pizza boxes.

“You haven't even opened the others yet,” you point out, following in his steps.

“Don’t need to open any of the others to know that yours is my favorite.”

Words of Affirmation

Two weeks later

Overstimulated. That's the best word to describe the way you're currently feeling.

Nervous, uncomfortable, irritable, a little hungry, even - any of those words would suffice, too. But with the way the velvet fabric of your dress hugs your hips too tightly, the way that the conversation of the drunk party guests roars in your ears, and the way that the heels of your feet already burn in your platform wedges so early in the evening, you think overstimulated sums up your current state the best.

You fidget with the extravagant ring that adorns your left ring finger, twisting it back and forth and rubbing the pad of your right thumb across the oval-shaped stone.

You aren't even supposed to be here, your brain keeps reminding you. It was supposed to be Natasha. Natasha, who has a boatload of undercover operations experience. But then she had to come down with the flu. Natasha, who never gets sick with anything more than a head cold, bedridden with the flu the day before a highly anticipated undercover mission that you are now taking her place in.

It's not that you hadn't been part of an undercover operation before - you had. You just hadn't been part of any undercover operation that required you to pose as someone's wife before.

Definitely not Bucky's wife.

The two of you had just arrived at the party no more than thirty minutes ago and you had spent the entirety of that time thinking that you wouldn't be able to make this believable; that everyone would see how anxious and awkward you feel and just know - just know that you weren't meant to be here and that it's abundantly clear that you and Bucky aren't actually together.

“Ivanov just arrived,” Bucky's voice murmurs next to your ear as he walks up behind you, snapping you out of your self-doubt induced trance. His left hand, disguised using nano-tech to look like a human, flesh hand, comes to rest against the small of your back and his right hand extends the drink that he retrieved for you from the bar.

“How'd you know I like lemon drops?” You ask, instantly recognizing the pale yellow liquid in the martini glass.

“I'm your husband. It's part of my job to know your go-to cocktail,” he smirks, looking at you in a way that almost makes you believe his words. “Besides, I'd know your drink of choice anyway. You always order a lemon drop.”

You clear your throat, breaking his stare by checking out the fellow attendees and event staff filtering through the ballroom. You slowly sip the sour liquid, trying to focus on the burn of the vodka and not the heat radiating across the skin of your back from him simply resting his fingers against the material of your dress.

“So where's Ivanov?” you break the tension. The illegal arms dealer that you'd been assigned to spy on was nowhere to be seen.

“He should be showing his face any minute now,” Bucky answers, a hint of displeasure in his voice. “I overheard some men at the bar saying he had just arrived in a three million dollar Bugatti with his twenty year old girlfriend.” You visibly cringe at the numbers. Ivanov had to be approaching senior citizen status at this point.

“Can't say that I'd expect anything else from him,” you sigh, attempting to wipe the disgust from your features. “What’s our game plan from here? Hover close by him and listen in on conversations–”

“Dance with me,” Bucky interrupts, his eyes locked on something on the opposite side of the room. You follow his gaze, realizing that Ivanov has entered with his exceptionally youthful girlfriend on his arm. Bucky extends his own arm to you, which you accept after tossing back the last sip of your drink and setting the empty glass on a table behind you.

He guides you to the center of the dance floor where several other couples are swaying to classical piano music. Ivanov mingles with a small group of questionable looking men just a few feet behind you, where Bucky is able to keep an eye on him.

He places one hand on your waist, using the other to hold one of yours in his own as he begins to slowly sway both of you to the rhythm of the music. Your free hand rests on the back of his neck, where you nervously twirl a tuft of his hair between your perfectly manicured fingers (you tried not to take too much offense to Sharon rushing you to the first salon she could find yesterday to help you look the part).

Bucky huffs a low laugh before using his grip on your hip to tug you closer to him, closing an awkward amount of space that separates your chest from his.

“If we want this to be believable, you’re gonna have to act like you kind of like me,” he murmurs lowly so that no one near you overhears. His face is just inches from yours - the scent of sandalwood from his aftershave and spearmint from his mouthwash is dizzying. Add in the fact that the lemon drop you had just quickly downed was heavy on the vodka, it’s a miracle that you’re still standing upright in these ridiculous heels that Sharon had picked out for you.

“I do like you,” you huff, your cheeks warming. “Not liking you isn’t the problem.” His gaze shifts away from where Ivanov stands a few yards behind you and down to your face.

“What is the problem then?”

You stare at his hand that holds yours, your eyes fixated on the brilliant diamond of your faux wedding ring. “For starters, I don’t really know how to slow dance,” you half-mumble. As if on cue, your left ankle shifts ever so slightly in your shoe, causing you to wobble. Bucky tightens his grasp on both your waist and hand to help steady you. He cackles - loudly enough for an old lady walking by to give him a side-eye.

“I think it’s pretty unlikely that our cover gets blown because you’re a little unsteady,” he whispers reassuringly. It does little to ease the lump of anxiety that has settled in your gut.

“It’s not just my lack of dancing experience,” you retort. “It’s all of this. I’m a bit out of my element here and I can’t help but feel like Natasha would have been able to do a much better–”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, beginning to massage his thumb over the skin of your hand in languid, circular motions. You can’t decide if it’s the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins or if it’s just the fact that it’s him, but it feels as though there’s a continuous trail of hot sparks everywhere his skin touches yours. “You've got this. If anyone’s got this, it's you. You've handled missions far more daunting than this with ease, right?”

You finally shift your eyes to meet his gaze. His deep blue eyes bore into yours with utmost sincerity. You give him a small nod of agreement and a tight-lipped, uncertain smile.

He leans in closer so that his mouth hovers just next to your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps down the expanse of your neck and shoulders.

“And remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

The slow, gentle swaying motions you'd been forcing your body to perform come to a sudden halt. You look at Bucky as if he's grown a second head. He’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

“Did you just quote Peeta Mellark?”

“I finished up the first book yesterday,” he shrugs as if his words hadn't just made your heart skip several beats. “Now let's get this job over with so we can go discuss the book in detail over some greasy diner food, yeah?”

Quality Time

The mere thought of getting the fuck out of that giant estate and away from Ivanov and the other countless skeevy party-goers to gorge on greasy diner food was more than enough motivation to get you through the duration of the mission.

Of course, it helped that Ivanov is a lightweight drunk with no concept of volume control. After a couple drinks, he handed the location of his next illegal arms deal to you and Bucky on a silver platter - without ever even noticing the two of you dancing just feet away from him.

“I'm sending the audio recording over to you right now,” Bucky says as he types on his cell phone. The two of you are currently in a drugstore parking lot half an hour away from the estate, sitting in the Audi SUV that you'd been given for this evening’s mission.

“Got it,” Sam’s voice booms through the car’s Bluetooth speakers a second later. “You guys did great back there. Go ahead and get back to the compound for debriefing.”

Your eyes flash to the time on the vehicle's touchscreen display - 10:06 pm. You can feel your stomach churning from hunger and your skin itching to get out of the restrictive velvet fabric, the last thing you wanted to do at this hour was go to a fucking debriefing.

“About that..” Bucky starts, noticing your disappointed expression and tense posture. “Debriefing is going to have to wait until the morning.”

“We should really get any details while they are still fresh–”

“What’s that? Sam? Sorry, you're breaking up, can't understand what you're–”

Bucky's flesh finger touches a button on the digital display screen and the call disconnects before he finishes his sentence.

“You know he's going to call back any second, right?” You ask after a moment of loaded silence. Bucky says nothing at first. You watch as he powers off his phone, and then grabs yours from its location in the center cup holder and powers it off, as well.

“I fully anticipate him trying,” he answers as he puts the car in reverse and peels out of the nearly vacant parking lot. “But I promised you a potentially gut-rotting meal, and I'm going to keep that promise.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky sit opposite each other in a cozy, corner booth of the only open diner in a five mile radius. It's half diner, half arcade, and the two of you are some of the only people here save for the teenage couple making out next to the jukebox in the gaming area. You both look out of place - him in his black satin suit and you in your burgundy colored dress with the thigh-slit, but you're too relieved to be eating to care.

He's already scarfed down a fried chicken sandwich and is rapidly making his way through a pile of mozzarella sticks. You're eating a fat stack of blueberry pancakes and the best loaded hash browns that you think you've ever had.

Breakfast foods hit different at eleven o'clock at night.

“I'm just saying, Katniss is kind of oblivious,” Bucky shrugs with a mouthful of fried cheese. “It's obvious that Peeta was never just pretending to be in love with her.”

“That's a big assumption coming from someone who hasn't even started the second book yet,” you say as you fork a bite of pancake into your mouth.

He throws his hands up in mock defense, covering his now empty plate up with a dirty napkin.

“You're not wrong though,” you admit. “She did miss a lot of signs, and she's not always the most reliable narrator.”

He responds with a small hum as he watches you finish your pancakes with a soft smile that shows his laugh lines and the dimple of his left cheek.

His smile turns to something more curious as the young couple who had been making out in the arcade room earlier dashes past your booth and out the back door of the restaurant.

“What is it?” You ask, pushing your empty plate towards the center of the table.

“The game room is free now,” he states, as if it's obvious. “Now I can kick your ass in air hockey.”

And kick your ass in air hockey he does. And skee ball, and Dance Dance revolution.

“Please don't tell Natasha that you beat me at Dance Dance Revolution,” you beg him as you pick up your high heels that you had discarded for the game. “She'll never let me live that one down. In fact, if anyone asks, it was a dead tie for all of these games.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles, approaching the pool table in the center of the room and leaning against the edge. “As long as you win this game of pool.”

“No, nope, absolutely not,” you freeze where you're standing, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I couldn't beat you at air hockey then I don't stand a chance of beating you at pool.”

He ignores you, instead turning to choose two cue sticks from the selection on the back wall. He tosses one to you from several feet away, which you instinctively drop your shoes to the floor to catch.

“I haven't even tried to play pool since I was maybe ten years old,” you whine.

“Why were you trying to play pool at ten years old?” he chuckles, gathering up all of the balls and placing them inside the triangular rack in the center of the table.

“It was at a birthday party,” you admit. “I pretended to know what I was doing to impress a boy that I had a crush on.”

“And how did that go for you?” He removes the triangle-shaped container from around the balls and begins to line up his shot.

“Well, I haven't tried to play pool since then,” you begin, taking a seat on the edge of the table and turning your head to watch him. He pulls the cue stick back and quickly stabs it forward, breaking the balls apart and sending them rolling in various directions across the felt table. “And Kyle from my fourth grade class thought that I had cooties, so, you tell me how you think that went for me.”

“Sounds like it was Kyle's loss.” You watch as he walks to one of the table's pockets to look inside. “I've got stripes,” he states, looking at you with an expectant smile.

You exhale a dramatic sigh, hopping off the edge of the table and turning around to position your stick in front of the cue ball.

“Fine,” you relent, looking up at him from where you're leaning over across the table. “But you're not allowed to laugh at me when you realize I wasn't lying about having no experience at this.”

“Scout's honor,” he swears and you can tell by his smile and reddened cheeks that he’s already trying to contain his laughter.

Feeling extra nervous due to the way you can physically feel him watching you, you take an embarrassing amount of time working up the courage to propel the tip of the cue stick towards a solid purple colored ball.

It travels a foot or so across the green felt material of the table and comes to a stop just inches away from a corner pocket.

“Damn it,” you sigh under your breath.

“That wasn't too bad, actually,” he says, not even trying to conceal his tone of surprise as he walks over to where you're standing. “You just need to change your stance a little and hit the ball a bit harder.”

“So, do basically everything differently, then?”

“I can help you, if you want,” he offers with a smug grin.

“Hm,” you bite your lip as you pretend to contemplate the proposition. “Okay,” you accept with a shrug. “But this better not be an attempt to pull a cliche “pretend to help her with pool as an excuse to make a move” kind of move.” You're fully joking - you know Bucky well enough to know he wouldn't make such a corny, obvious move with anyone - and you definitely wouldn't expect him to do so with you.

But you don't miss the way his expression darkens ever so slightly and his eyes sweep up your figure before moving to stand behind you, propping his own cue stick up against the table.

The front of your thighs brush up against the edge of the table and Bucky’s arms enclose you on either side - his hands coming to rest next to each of your legs on the table's edge, as close as they can be to you without actually touching.

Your breath hitches in your throat when the silky material of his suit brushes against your bare shoulders, the sensation causing you to go deadly still as you await his next move.

“With how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think I would have to do something as cheesy as that to make a move.” He murmurs, his mouth close enough to the exposed skin of your neck that you can feel the heat of his breath. It's an automatic response, the way your head tilts back into his touch. You start to pull away, start to feel embarrassed, start to tell him just how wrong he is, when he brings a flesh finger to the ball of your shoulder and trails his index finger down the skin of your arm, eliciting a surge of goosebumps in its wake.

This physical reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, either. He hums a small laugh, inching closer to you so that his body presses against your ass.

“In fact,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I think that if I wanted to, I could have you bent over this table for me without having to resort to anything like that.”

If his chest wasn't pinning you between him and the pool table, you probably would have fallen over. The air in the arcade feels a sudden ten degrees warmer and you swear you can hear your blood pumping in your ears - things that unfortunately can't be blamed on the effects of the martini that had dissipated from your system hours ago.

No, it's all him. His closeness, his warmth, his voice, his scent. Just him.

“If you wanted to, yeah?” You question, your voice an octave higher than you ideally would have liked. “That makes it sound like you don't want to. But the bulge I'm feeling from your pants makes it seem like you do want to. Kinda sending me mixed signals here.” You rut back against him for good measure.

He hisses next to your ear, his hands snapping to your hips, effectively stilling you beneath him. His fingers dig into the flesh around your hip bones, the pressure somewhere perfectly between uncomfortable and pleasurable.

“Here? Bent over this table?” he tuts, his lips grazing the skin next to the shoulder strap of your dress. “Where a couple of unsuspecting teenagers could walk in for a game of skee ball at any second?” He lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating against your back.

“No, I don't think so,” he continues. “Not when we've got a brand new Audi with a spacious backseat and highly tinted windows just outside this building.”

Physical Touch

If someone had asked you six hours ago if you thought there was a chance you would be ending this night by having sex with Bucky Barnes, you would have said no.

But if someone had asked you if you thought there was a chance you would be having sex with Bucky Barnes in the backseat of a car in a diner-arcade combo parking lot, you would have said fuck no.

You would have been wrong on both accounts. And with the way that he's nipping and sucking up the insides of your thighs, you're pretty fucking okay with that.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties discarded on the floor of the car. You're laying as comfortably as you can across the backseat with Bucky nestled snuggly between your legs. It's a tight fit, and the stagnant air inside the Audi is balmy, but you'll be damned if you interrupt this to turn the AC on. The only light inside the vehicle is from the glow of the full moon that illuminates the sky, and the giant neon green diner sign a few yards away from where you're parked.

He's not wasting any time - it's well past midnight at this point and considering the fact that Bucky turned your cell phones off hours ago, you're surprised that Sam hasn't traced the location of the vehicle and sent search and rescue already.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your center, you’re lacing your fingers through his short, soft locks and tugging on them. You grind your pussy against his face, meeting his fervent motions with your own. He locks his lips around your clit before pulling away with an obscene, wet pop that echoes through the cab of the car.

He reaches one hand up to your shoulders while keeping his lips on you, quickly tugging down the spaghetti straps of your dress and then pawing at the fabric covering your chest to free your tits.

At the same time that he plunges his tongue inside you, he rolls a nipple between two of his cool, metal digits, yearning a sharp yelp from you. He releases his grip and then palms your breast in his hand, continuing to work your folds with his lips and tongue.

You don't know if it's the fact that it's been a ridiculous amount of time since you so much as kissed someone or the fact that Bucky eats pussy like he's starving, but you're approaching your climax insanely fast.

You clench your thighs around his ears and push your hips upwards, the friction building that warm tension in your lower belly that comes spilling over when he lets out a guttural moan across your core.

You cum against his face, feeling your juices drip down the insides of your thighs - there's a pesky voice in the back of your head telling you that you're going to have to pay to have this car detailed before giving it back.

He sits up, his back resting against the middle of the leather seat. He unbuttons and unzips his suit pants, raising off the seat just enough to tug them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. You're still coming down from your orgasm when he's pulling you up from the seat and into a sitting position.

You tuck your legs underneath you so that you're propped up on your knees on the seat directly next to him. Bucky pumps himself in his hand as you lean over, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth and letting it slide between your lips and over the head of his cock.

You push his hand away to replace it with your own, using your spit as lubrication as you stroke him up and down. He throws his head back against the headrest, looking up at the roof of the car as he brings his hand around the curve of your ass, flesh hand finding your pussy that's still throbbing from how hard he had made you cum.

You can feel the smooth band of the engagement ring that you'd been wearing all evening repeatedly caress a large vein on the side of his dick - you remove your hand from him, causing him to snap his head back down to look at you. You bring your other hand to remove the ring from your finger, planning to tuck it into a cup holder for safekeeping while you use your hands on him.

“Leave it on,” he breaks the thick silence when he realizes what you're doing. “Want you to keep wearing it.”

You push the ring back down on your finger, his command sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You're extending your hand back to his cock when he cuts you off, pulling you to him and across his lap.

You straddle him, his erection locked between your pussy lips and his lower belly. You move forwards, and then backwards - earning another deep groan from him as you coat the underbelly of his cock in your juices. You grind up and down against him several times, until you're feeling impossibly empty and can't take the feeling of not having him inside you any longer.

You lift yourself up on the balls of your feet, high enough for him to guide himself to your entrance. He teases your hole with his head - or at least tries to, before you're sinking yourself down onto his length. You go still for a moment when he's fully inside you, giving you both time to adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation of each other.

You begin to ride him, slowly at first - he stretches you blissfully sweet and soon you're picking up the pace, your ass bouncing off of his thighs with each comedown.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face down to his in a sloppy, searing kiss. It hits you that he's inside you raw right now, and you're just now kissing. You taste yourself on him, warm and salty sweet. He sweeps his tongue along your bottom lip and you open up for him, letting him explore your mouth from the perfect angle that he's at beneath you.

He continues to kiss you but removes his hand from the back of your neck, moving both of them to cup your ass. He begins to meet your movements with his own, thrusting himself upwards so that his cock is ramming into that sweet spot of your cervix and sending you towards a second climax.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss for air. Your encouragement spurs him on, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Your legs turn to jelly beneath you, but he's got you - he holds you up by your ass cheeks and leans forward to take one of your nipples in his warm mouth.

It's enough to send you over the edge again. Your orgasm builds, heat exploding through your abdomen as his movements grow erratic and he spills into you from below.

He stills beneath you when you're both spent, your chest heaving against his. You make no effort to remove yourself from him, and he seems more than happy to keep you right where you are - his arms locking around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“I guess now would be as good of a time as any to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Go on a date with you sometime?” You lean back, looking down with him with the limited amount of moonlight and neon lighting that breaks through the tinted windows. “We dressed up real nice, slow danced, spied on a bad guy, ate greasy diner food, played arcade games, and you're inside me as we speak. I think it's safe to say we're currently on a date.”

He snorts, breaking into laughter beneath you. “A second date, then,” he concedes. “I would love to take you on a second date.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thank you for reading!!! kind of nervous to put this one out there tbh, i've been working on it off and on for weeks but i love how it turned out and i hope you all do too. as always comments and reblogs are very appreciated 💕

it's nice to have a friend

moth to a flame

oil & water

[minorlyatfault]

⪩ ⪨ I'M YOUR MAN, I'M YOUR WOMAN, I'M YOUR GODDESS, I'M YOUR FOOL !

ᰔ PAIRING . . . jason peter todd !

ᰔ . . . j. todd with a silena beauregard coded! reader !

ᰔ CATEGORY . . . HEADCANONS !

ᰔ TAGS . . . silena beauregard coded!reader. romance novels on the nightstand, knives under the bed. he rolls his eyes but never misses a chapter. target dates turned emotional revelations. “i’m bad for you” type shyt & she just laughs. nail polish & tiny hearts. he reads lynn painter books & pretends not to care. protective bf but make it silent acts of love. love letters disguised as sarcasm. moral ambiguity meets pink pens & scented candles. he flinches at love but stays anyway. jason todd is confused but in loooovveee. emotional whiplash via boyfriend. mentions of trauma (lightly). softness so intense it may make him feral. you being dangerously lovable.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 NOTES !

001. reader is not a demigod !! she only has silena beauregard's personality traits !! so,, this is basically how i imagine silena if she wasn't a demigod.

002. mwamwa i love u j. todd

you guys met on a bookstore.

yeah, that overused one. not very original. but,,, it's jason.

he was brooding over the thriller section & you were in the romance section holding "better than the movies" & giggling.

he glared. you caught him. smiled. & said:

"are you judging me, batboy?"

wow.

you called him batboy before you knew who he was.

because he had the jawline. the hoodie. the eternal scowl. he looked like he lived off coffee & guilt. LIKE URGHHHHHHHHHHH

you were pink. he was pain. it was inevitable.

jason was like, "who the hell is this girl & why is she sparkly & loud & giving me heart palpitations."

& then he saw how your smile disappeared when people dismissed you.

how you gave so much love even when you were tired.

& he was like. oh no.

you took the initiative. naturally.

jason is the kind of guy who'll pine for six months before he'll ask someone out.

so you snuck your number into his book when he wasn't looking.

it was in purple ink with a heart over the i in your name < 33

he texted you two days later. about time.

"so, you gonna keep stalking me in the romance aisle or are you gonna let me buy you coffee?"

you thought he hated romance.

plot twist: he doesn't.

he pretends he does, but then he read the do-over in one sitting & texted you angrily at 3am like

"i didn't expect to CARE about these people, wtf."

he never stops you from discussing your books.

like. you'll yap for a half hour about the boy next door troupe & jason just drinks his drink, nods, & maybe every once in a while says

"he sounds like a loser. i'd never take so long to kiss you."

he's talking about wes bennett btw lol

god forbid the boy to read nothing like the movies

you paint his nails.

sometimes black. sometimes glittery pink.

once you put alternating hearts & teeny knives.

he got upset. didn't remove it for a week.

you put together a "boyfriend basket."

with treats, a hoodie you spritzed with perfume, a mini version of betting on you, & a "reasons i love you" list.

he took it home like it was a grenade.

he has your lip gloss on.

not on accident.

you kiss him so much he just ends up with glitter on his mouth.

you're always laughing & brushing it off. (he lowkey doesn't like you to.)

you sob during movies. & jason panics every single time.

he's like

"do i kill someone?

do i get tissues?

do you need chocolate?"

& you're like

"no i'm just emotionally invested in this fictional couple."

he doesn't understand but he hugs you anyway.(he's very stiff though, he's adjusting !!)

you go to target solely to vibe.

jason rolls the cart.

you toss in candles & bath bombs & glitter pens.

he pretends to sigh but secretly adoresssssss every moment of it.

you do vision boards !!

yours has pink sunsets, flowers, love quotes.

jason's has like… knives & motorcycle pieces.

but you got him to put one soft picture on it.

it's a fuzzy polaroid of you. you !!

he keeps it stuck to his helmet now.

you rant.

jason listens.

doesn't always respond immediately.

but hours later he'll return & say something like,,,

"you make me feel like i'm not broken."

& then just walk away like he didn't just devastate you emotionally. LIKE??? cruel man.

you're the first human being to ever make him feel safe. ( esp,, after,,, yk. )

like, he comes into your apartment & suddenly his shoulders relax, his breathing eases, & he's like, "this is home." not a place. you.

you make him playlists.

one for each mood.

"kiss me slow," "bad day vibes (hug edition),"

he listens to them on patrol.

every time.

you get him ready for date nights.

"jason. seriously. no more black everything."

he'll wear the shirt you've selected & complain through the entire process.

but you see him glance at himself in the mirror. just slightly.

he doesn't tell you "i love you" first. he tells him

"don't die"

&

"text me when you get in"

&

"i got that stupid tea you like."

& finally,,,,,

"i don't know how to do this. but i'm trying. because it's you."

:((((

you're all he didn't realize he was missing.

quiet. loud. gentle. shiny.

you have your heart like a crown & kiss his scars like verse.

& somehow▰somehow▰you make him feel like perhaps he's worthy of it. ( he is. )

[wisteria-lodge]

What are your thoughts on those who believe hp fans (fan writers, artists, and appreciators alike) should leave the fandom sphere in favor of not giving JKR any “support” even if one does not share her views, as opposed to consuming fan content (or even the original media) while understanding the separation between art from artist (even if that can’t truly be 100% done, as HP is JKR, though that is another discussion entirely)?

I can only answer for myself, but I guess I would say - I'm a teacher, IRL. And my students, they know about Harry Potter, they know the property, they grew up with the movies, they read Harry Potter fanfiction, and... they talk to me about it. I think it's *good* that they talk to me about it. They ask questions about JKR, about the problematic elements in the books, trans issues, queer coded villains. Whatever is bothering them, whatever they otherwise feel dumb about asking.

Just the other day I had a very sweet conversation with a trans student who had realized he was gay because Harry and Draco in the books were so "real" and "me coded" (and then he realized people shipped them and was like OH.) Basically, he just needed to be told that his experience was still okay and valid even though JKR is such a terrible transphobe. I had another one ask me "why are all queer people Wolfstar?" (what she meant was, why do gay couples in media tend have a masc one + a femme one. But for her, patient zero is Wolfstar, and that's how she phrased the question.)

On this blog, I'm in this position where I clearly know like, a lot about Harry Potter, I clearly authentically love it (and the fan culture around it...) but am very VERY critical of both JKR as a person, and specific choices she made while writing the books. That's a combination that's definitely got me some hate mail, but also thank-you letters, and extremely earnest questions. And, if I never touched HP meta or fandom, I wouldn't get to occupy that space.

I completely, completely understand people who never want to read the words "Harry Potter" ever again. That was me, for years. I only started writing about Harry Potter on this blog last July, but so far it's been very a interesting, rewarding, cathartic experience. I've also had a great time writing fic, and using that as a means to examine my emotions and issues around this property, and with JKR herself. I got such a kick out of matching JKR's writing style as perfectly as I possibly could, and then writing Book 4 babygay Drarry. Or making Tonks just like, super genderqueer, trans, all of the above. Or flipping the framing to write a 100% canon compliant morally grey Dumbledore, and a sympathetic Lucius Malfoy. People seem to really like the fics too, so that's a nice bonus. I've gotten a lot from fanfiction myself in the past, I think it's a fascinating and useful form of art. So, I like getting getting to continue the cycle.

[wordsofwhimsy]

【Ｏｐｐｏｓｉｔｅｓ　

Ａｔｔｒａｃｔ】 - Part Ten

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice of life

Word Count: 1,593

Chapter Synopsis: You talk with Emily about the game, and would you believe it? None of other than Invincible himself shows up at your dorm

a/n: i know this part is short, but i actually had it combined with the next chapter and it got way too long so i decided to break it up – might just drop the other chapter tho cause i am IN LOVE with it. my fav part so far by farrr

Part Nine

You didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night. No follow-up texts. No voice memos. No dramatic rooftop monologues.

Just Mark: chaotic, all-powerful, utterly ridiculous—and then gone, like he hadn’t just hijacked a Major League Baseball game to show off for reasons you still didn’t understand.

You sat on your bed, now back into an old, comfortable hoodie as your eyes continuously flicked back to your phone. Emily was lying upside-down across her mattress, scrolling through her For You Page with the energy of someone who hadn’t watched the Earth briefly tilt off its axis but definitely heard all about it.

“Okay, but seriously,” she said around a mouthful of Twizzlers, “Invincible showing up to a baseball game like that? Completely unhinged behavior. Who throws a pitch and then leaves the atmosphere?”

You swallowed. “Yeah. Super weird.”

“Weirder still,” she continued, flipping her phone around to show you a TikTok, “he totally winked at someone in the crowd. Look, someone zoomed in. You can’t tell who it was, but—definitely a wink. At someone. I swear to God, if this turns into another ‘who is Invincible secretly dating’ conspiracy, I’m going to throw my phone.”

You tried very hard not to choke on your own breath. “Maybe he was just being friendly.”

“Friendly? Babe, that wink had agenda.”

You gave her a look. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist.”

Emily sat up, serious now. “No, no—this is important. This is gossip history in the making. Be so for real, that little power stunt was literally insane? Like, I’m sorry, but imagine being the poor dude on a date and suddenly God’s favorite war machine crash-lands in center field? The way I would simply evaporate.”

Your smile was tight. “Yeah. Super embarrassing for that guy.”

Emily nodded. “Poor Kyle. I hope he’s not crying about it.” You pressed your lips together, gaze dropping to your phone again. And then something clicked.

“Wait.” You looked up. “Why are we talking about Kyle?”

Emily blinked. “Um�� because you were on a date with him?”

Your brow furrowed. “That wasn’t a date.”

Emily stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You got dressed up, went to a stadium with a guy who likes you, ate overpriced nachos, and undoubtedly laughed at all his really dumb jokes.”

You blinked. “Okay, but—he was kind of funny.”

Emily threw a Twizzler at your head. “Oh my God. You cannot be this dense.”

You swatted it away, flustered. “What?! We were just hanging out.”

She stared. “Did you kiss?”

“Wha—no! What?! Ew—no!” You buried your face in your hands. “Why would we—oh my god, stop asking me that!”

Emily gasped. “Wait. Wait-wait-wait. You seriously didn’t even give him a kiss?”

You peeked at her through your fingers, face burning. “Not everyone’s out here kissing people all the time, Emily.”

She launched herself forward like you’d just confessed to a crime. “You mean to tell me you went on an actual date—”

“It wasn’t a date!”

“—with a real boy, who was cute and funny, and you didn’t even give him a little smooch? Babe, that’s so cute I might cry.”

You groaned, tugging your hoodie over your head like it might swallow you whole. “I hate this conversation.”

Emily flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “You are a rom-com protagonist. This is classic awkward first love behavior. We are in act two right now.”

Before you could argue that, yes, actually, this was real life and not a Netflix original movie, there was a knock at the window.

Both of you froze.

“…Was that the wind?” you asked, way too hopeful.

Another knock.

Emily bolted upright. “Okay, no. That was a knock. Are you expecting someone? Is that Kyle, like throwing rocks or something? Is this a dramatic second date? Oh my god, is this your rom-com moment?!”

You stumbled to your feet and crossed the room like you were about to open the gates of hell. You yanked the curtains back—

—and nearly screamed.

Mark was hovering just outside, one hand braced casually on the window frame, expression unreadable under his wind-tousled hair.

You cracked the window open an inch. “Are you insane?!”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Hi to you too.”

Emily squinted behind you, trying to get a glimpse past the curtain. “Wait—is that—is that Invincible?!”

Panic. Pure, full-body panic. “I—uh. Maybe?”

You tried to shut the curtain again. Mark shoved the window open wider with one hand and stepped inside like he did this all the time.

Emily gasped. “OH MY GOD IT IS. It’s literally Invincible. In our dorm room. Right now. I am losing my actual mind—”

She stopped mid-rant. Went very still. Then tilted her head, slowly. You felt the energy shift like a tectonic plate. “...Wait a second,” she said, voice dangerously calm. “Why does he have Mark’s hair.”

You froze.

Mark—traitor that he was—didn’t even flinch. Just smirked a little and crossed his arms, like he thought this was funny.

Emily’s gaze whipped to you. “No. No. Don’t you dare—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said way too fast.

Emily took a threatening step forward. “Do not play dumb with me. He has the same mohawk. The same stupid jawline. The same weird little frown he makes when he’s trying not to look impressed. That is Mark in spandex.”

Mark, very unhelpfully: “Technically it’s a polyfiber-carbon weave.”

Emily lost it.

“YOU!!” she pointed dramatically. “YOU HAVE BEEN EATING CUP NOODLES WITH US FOR WEEKS. And you’re out here catching satellites and ruining baseball games?!”

“It was one game,” Mark muttered.

“This. Is. INSANE. You’ve been sitting on the tea of the century, and you didn’t spill??” Her chaos was pointed at you again.

You threw your arms up. “It wasn’t my tea to spill!”

Emily paused, squinting. “Wait. Wait. Was that why he crash-landed at the stadium?” You opened your mouth. Closed it again. “OH MY GOD,” Emily shrieked. “He was showing off for you. THAT’S why he winked. THAT WASN’T A PUBLICITY STUNT. THAT WAS FOREPLAY.”

You shrieked right back. “PLEASE STOP TALKING.”

Mark was in the corner of your room looking far too pleased with the whole situation.

Emily whirled on him again. “You winked. At my best friend. In a stadium. On a date.”

Mark just grinned. “What can I say? I’m dramatic.”

“You are deranged.”

You looked at her, pleading. “Emily, I swear, it wasn’t even a real date—”

Emily gasped again. “OH MY GOD WAIT DID YOU KISS INVINICIBLE??”

“WHAT?! NO!!”

“Don’t you dare lie to me again!!”

You groaned and tried to disappear into your hoodie for the second time that night. “Can we not have this conversation while he’s literally in the room?”

Mark, very softly: “…Wait, but, do you want to?” Your stare shot onto him, absolutely floored and wildly confused.

The whole room felt like it was vibrating from pure, unfiltered mortification. And then—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You froze. Emily froze. Even Mark had the decency to look mildly concerned. A voice came from the hallway. Flat. Sharp. Brutally unamused.

“Girls? Is everything okay in there?”

You stared at the door like it had just grown teeth. “Oh my god. That’s Harper.”

Emily hissed. “RA Harper?”

“RA Harper,” you confirmed, already spiraling.

Mark whispered, “Who’s Harper?”

Emily whispered back, “The RA who caught us trying to microwave soup with a candle during the blackout. We’re on her list.”

You scrambled off the bed and tried to fix your hair, even though this was so far beyond hair.

“Yeah!” you called, way too loud. “Everything’s fine! Totally normal! Just… girl stuff!”

A pause.

“...Are there men in your room?”

You could practically hear the clipboard in her voice.

Emily slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Mark moved like he was about to jump out the window again.

You grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare.”

Emily cleared her throat. “No men here! Just one very aggressively voiced girl doing a dramatic reading of... Call Me by Your Name!”

There was a long pause.

Then Harper sighed. “Lights out is in ten. And if I hear one more thud, I’m coming in with backup.” You waited until her footsteps faded down the hall. Then, very slowly, you turned to Mark.

“You owe me a new RA-friendly reputation.” Mark, completely unfazed, sat on your desk like he belonged there.

“I knocked politely.”

“You crashed a baseball game and then crawled through my window like a—a—a burglar or something!”

Emily raised her hand. “Counterpoint: he did catch a ball that literally orbited the planet. That’s kinda hot.”

You glared at her. “Whose side are you on?”

Emily grinned, eyes gleaming. “Whichever side gets me more TikTok content.”

Mark leaned back, arms crossed. “So… are we gonna talk? Or should I come back when you’re done death-staring me into the floor?”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “I hate college.”

From outside, someone shouted “SHUT UP, KAREN!” through the wall.

You yelled back, “MY NAME’S NOT KAREN.” Then you whispered, to absolutely no one: “I’m gonna die in this dorm…”

Mark grinned. “Cool. So. You free tomorrow?”

———————

Part Eleven

———————

Taglist! @maddyb-rapps | @sweet-3-whispers | @moradogreen | @rayaaa4444 | @luvvcharxo | @byteme05 | @rivalriotrenegade | @1abi | @onlybatsyy | @heiankyonoeiyuukun | @dillybuggg | @am-3-thyst | @mikevi | @sadest-bookshelf

[starlightwoofwoof]

okay so ……. why do I always say that when I begin posts- anyway

so I really wanted to put all my Glisten/Perfect ideas I have for my DW x MLB AU in one post because I feel like I talk about them too much- I love talking about them but yeah, I need to talk more about other characters lol

First of all, let’s talk about nightmares

Now, Glisten does seem to have nightmares normally, as seen in his interaction with Astro, which I’m extremely curious of what they’re specifically about-

but in this AU, because of Perfect’s sheer existence, he started almost immediately having them a little more often after Perfect’s defeat, and they were somehow even scarier than his previous ones (until Astro was tired of it and stepped up, of course)

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot- I like to think Glisten’s first nightmare after his akumatization started normal at first. He’s basically on a runway with the other toons in the audience, and he’s showing off a new fabulous outfit and everyone’s hyping him up

until Glisten hears a giggle from behind the curtains backstage

“Alright, alright, we’ve had enough of ‘admiring’ you. Make way for the real star of the show!”

Perfect shows up and brings up his vanity mirror and everyone directs their attention to him instead due to ✨ magic ✨

and then Perfect bullies the crap out of Glisten yadda yadda yadda-

I haven’t thought of anything beyond that but I like to think it got really spooky and trippy- cause to be fair, dreams can get very weird sometimes

lol sorry idk why I went full fanfic mode for a split second there uh

anyway, next

who wants lore noooooooottttttteeeeeesssssss-

okay, one more thing, I’ve yapped too much already lol

sooooooo I got a comment on Perfect’s original post about how Glisten and Perfect’s ordeal was Midnight Sparkle from MLP Equestria Girls Legends of Everfree Core ……… and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I don’t think because that was exactly what I was going for

and so I was like “you know what frick it” and I redrew that one scene in the movie that everyone made bases of and all that-

this looks incredibly weird without context I hope you know what I’m talking about-

man all of this kinda makes me want to give this dynamic to other characters, honestly, definitely not on Glisten/Perfect’s level but I think it would be kinda cool-

one more thing, thank you guys for all the DW x MLB fanart recently!! I appreciate it a lot and I hope to see more :] 💙✨

okay I think that’s enough for now lol okie byeeeeeeeee

[traincat]

Joseph Quinn recently spoke about how he's choosing to portray Johnny as a character and I honestly found his responses really interesting. I'm not sure if you've seen what he's said but he pretty much says he's confident and funny but still self-deprecating and that he isn't "callous" with others' feelings. Also that his intelligence is more of a focus (which I kind of love because he is clever!!! I feel like people forget that because his brother-in-law is THE Reed Richards-though maybe I'm biased because I project the fact that I think Johnny has adhd and isn't "traditionally book smart" but still very clever, if that makes sense idk).

Anyways, I just thought this was pretty cool and I gotta say I am looking forward to seeing his take on Johnny as a character :)

I saw part of the quote, but I've been busy with a fandom event, so I haven't really been keeping a close eye on any Marvel news. I do like what he said about Johnny not being as much of a skirt chaser, which is very accurate to '60s Johnny, the Sweetest Boy in the World. I'm also glad that it sounds like they're going to focus on his specific brand of intelligence, because the fun thing with Johnny is that, even though he's so critical of himself, he is really intelligent, but it's a different kind of intelligence than Reed's. He's an engineer! He's emotionally intelligent! Except when he's not! Which is usually about his own emotions! So it's fun to hear that he's not callous with other peoples' feelings.

I'm trying to like, not get too much of an idea of anything about this movie in my head, though. I'm always interested in new interpretations of the Fantastic Four and how they draw on or differ from the original canon, so it'll be interesting to go in with no preconceptions. Joseph Quinn wasn't my ideal casting (I didn't want anyone who was extremely well known for one role in a huge fandom because of the tendency for bleed over, like what happened with the Hobbit for example) but I'm still interested in seeing his interpretation of the character. From what you've described here, it certainly sounds more grounded in the original Lee/Kirby run.

[mircsy]

This.

We, artists, interact with each other on a daily basis, either in text or call (or both). It genuinely disgusts me to see how disrespectful and immature some people allow themselves to act online, to act with my friends.

I understand when someone doesn’t like a design, ship, art style or interpretation etc. Like, my gosh, I really wish I could erase my memory of the jetpack-windbag from the official “600 Strike” animation, or Odysseus’ red eyes in the song “Odysseus”, those visuals are JORGE’s ideas and NOT the artist’s who he commissioned, or that Jorge decided to add the mention of SA in “Hold Them Down”, while it was not in the original source, or the way he portays Calypso. (Yet people complain when artists don’t stay “canon”) Yes, Jorge took plenty of artistic liberties while writing this musical. And that is completely OK. Do I go around talk shit about him, spread dreadful misinformation about him, label him as a bad person because I don’t specifically like these changes? No. I still appreciate the hard work he put into the songs, the music, the thoughts behind them, and I accept the way he sees the songs, or I come up with sensible and respectful arguments/constructive critisism why I don’t like something. Or simply accept that it’s not my cup of tea and don’t interact with it to get rid of content I dislike.

Not like those who talk hateful about artists who make their own interpretation of the songs, or when they create something original they get told to go back and work on EPIC content. Or like those who are hateful towards Stories from Styx, because they had expected a second EPIC, while Casper emphasized SEVERAL TIMES that it will NOT be like Jorge’s creation. SfS is a completely different genre, which requires different type of voices, different instruments, different techniques of singing, plus it is the first musical our dear friend Casper ever wrote. And did he use the same artists who Jorge used? Yes, BECAUSE we are NOT “EPIC artists” who are Jorge’s property, we are all individuals who can join and leave, and create in any fandom/topic we want. It’s as if these people had said “How dare Robert Downey Jr. play Sherlock Holmes in the movies, he is a Marvel actor”. But I, and many other artists, have talked about this already enough. And guess what? Even though I loved working with Jorge, I enjoyed working with Casper more. Wild? Not really.

Casper showed he cares about the artists he commissioned. He made us a place where we can interact and help each other too, which made work so much less stressful. He cares so much he is even trying to help us dissolve this hate that reaches some of us, artists. Ryan’s advice about the algorythm and “block the hateful people and move on” is good. Correct, that really is how the algorythm works. But it misses the whole point why we reached out in the first place.

He can talk about community management, but it is not the SfS fandom that is full of immature and toxic people, who I question if they have ever been in fandoms. It is the EPIC fandom. And just like any other fandoms, it will have dark sides, people in the fandom WILL USE dark topics to create fan made content. And for many people it is a coping mechanism. (See sharpwolf ship. Those people who write about this toxic relationship, while themselves are victims, it’s like vent art for them. Helps them understand their own emotions. And also, not every Telemachus x Antinous work is connected to EPIC, keep that in mind. Greek mythology exists outside EPIC)

It just seems that a large part of the EPIC fandom loves the musical. But not the artists, writers, other creators who technically made it popular, those who technically carry the musical on their backs to the top with their fan (or even official) work… And those who could change that, those whose words would be listened to (not just heard), they step back and watch.

But that’s okay. Block those who hate and move on. Right?

Now here’s a fact. If the self entitled kids who spread hate don’t get regulated by someone who they most likely would actually listen to (*glances at the creator of EPIC*), artist will take the advice and will move on. Completely. Because of these people we started loosing enthusiasm over creating EPIC content.

hi guys! just letting you know in response to being notified about an uptick of hate and negativity in the epic fandom (mostly on tiktok) , Ryan Donaldson, the main business strategist of the EPIC team, has issued a statement essentially saying its the creator's fault that they experience so much hate because they drive the algorithm to give them more hate comments by responding to it.

Nowhere in the video does he say that he doesn't condone this sort of behavior, which is weird considering that he was a large contributor in creating and curating the fandom. He repeatedly pushes the idea of 'banning and moving on,' saying that Stories from Styx experiences more hate because Casper responds to hateful comments and implies that he may have hired "abusive collaborators" (whatever that means). Nowhere in this video does he talk about the role of the audience in defining the behavior of a fandom space. Ryan then plugs epic by talking about how positive everyone involved in the project is . Generally a dogshit response

Ryan is @ tiktokdungeonmaster on well. Tiktok

[chrystal-ink]

Okay, so first off, the hedgehog harem prologue? Amazing! Loved it and looking forward to how this progresses. I couldn’t help but notice something…

Now this is about Tower who I assume is Boom!Shadow (if I’m wrong, please correct me I did the best I could keeping track of which one was which). If I have that correct…

I find it hilarious that the most aggressive Shadow fell for y/n the quickest 😂 (original Shadow excluded, obviously). Didn’t even have anything done for him like the others and yet he’s already hooked.

Btw, love your take on Lancelot and his lack of modern day knowledge, especially birth control!😂😂😂 he’s going to view so many things as some sort of magic or witchcraft 😅. Go easy on the poor guy, he at least has the excuse of not knowing any better.

Thank you so much for enjoying it! I really appreciate it! So sorry for taking so long to reply I’ve been sick and haven’t felt up to writing or doing much of anything this past week but I’m finally starting to feel better and I’m getting back into the swing of things.

Yes Tower is Boom Shadow sorry I probably should have added that in as a note I’ll put a list of who’s who just in case.

X shadow = Edge ❌

Boom Shadow = Tower 💥

Movie Shadow = Dual 🎬

06 Shadow = Six 6️⃣

Lancelot = Lancelot ⚔️

And OG Shadow will just be referred to as Shadow

Shadow in boom is so funny to me because of all his adaptations he is kinda the most asshole of them all (and I mean that in a loving way). He gives off a very “I like this therefore it is my whole world” vibe.

He’s also very set in his ways once he makes a decision he sticks with it, I think that once OG brought up the topic of being in a romantic relationship his interest was piqued, because he very much looks down on others he had high expectations for Y/N all of which were met pretty much from the beginning before reader opens their mouth.

Now don’t get me wrong the love that boom feels at this moment in the story is very superficial, he has a lot to learn and his romance style is going to be the most immature starting out but as we progress there’s going to be a lot of self reflecting not only in boom but in the others as well. The therapy sessions are actually going to come into play in some fun and interesting ways that I hope to make really good like I’m kinda nervous writing it out in a way that makes sense.

Don’t worry about Lancelot I won’t make him suffer too much lol (maybe just a little). In part one I was going to add a part about the Shadows teaching Lancelot about indoor plumbing but I decided against it because it was making an already long chapter even longer and it also didn’t add anything to the story.

I might do some little side blurbs about the Shadows living together without Y/N being directly involved or even mentioned because frankly the concept of six different Shadows living together could be a whole fic in itself. but that’s only if I find the time. I’m going to be super busy in May to the point where I’ll be lucky to get one or two fics out.

But as for Lancelot he’s definitely the one I’ve had the most fun writing for. I also have the most ideas for him that I’m excited to write about (sword fighting lessons anyone?). But all in all I plan on giving each of the shadows some well deserved love, So long as they don’t break anything lol.

[godricgryffinsnore]

Hi Della, I am gonna be shameless and ask for a Friedrich Harding angst to fluff. LIKE LEGIT ANGST. Please make me tear up or bawl my eyes out. idc. I need to feel something. Maybe she fell first but he fell harder type of trope??? Maybe Harding believed Anna is it for him but in reality it’s the reader whom he really wants? HSHSHHAHAHA I AM BABBLING AT THIS POINT BUT I HOPE YOU GET WHAT I MEAN. 😭

The Wrong Name In The Dark ♡ : A Friedrich Harding Fan Fiction.

pairing : Friedrich Harding x female!reader

summary : A hauntingly poetic tale of unspoken love, aching devotion, and soul-deep yearning, where shadows of the past threaten to eclipse a heart that has waited too long to be seen. In the quiet ruins of heartbreak, love finds its voice—and redemption.

warnings : Intense emotional angst, Themes of unrequited love and emotional neglect, Mentions of crying, grief, and internalized heartbreak, A scene with mistaken identity/intimacy, Begging, emotional vulnerability, and desperate confessions, Heavy gothic imagery and melancholy tone, Mentions of blood/curse (Nosferatu themes), Redemption arc and emotional healing. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3. This is a drabble, i.e, an extremely short fiction.

word count : 1k

main master list <3

della's note : Tally, I swear I didn’t mean to fall headfirst into Period Piece Aaron Taylor-Johnson brain rot, but here we are 💀 I originally dodged the movie 'cause I’m a certified horror wimp, but your request made me brave—and now I’m emotionally destroyed and weirdly grateful?? I had so much fun writing this (read: sobbing into my keyboard), hope you like it!! Sorry it’s short, blame Friedrich’s brooding. I really hope you like it though <3. Oh and btw, this is split into 7 parts of grief prioritizing the moments instead of dialogues. OH AND BTW, I AM HONOURED TO WRITE THIS!! Your fan fictions are my sole happiness!

banners : @uzmacchiato and @roseschoices

I. THE NAME THAT WASN’T YOURS

You learned to live with shadows.

They curled around your ankles like smoke, crept into the lining of your soul, and whispered lullabies of silence. And he—Friedrich Harding—was the storm inside the silence. A man cloaked in enigma, all stern bone structure and unspoken tragedies, the very embodiment of winter itself.

You loved him in secret.

Loved him in the way the moon loves the tide—always pulling, never reaching.

You watched him turn his gaze toward Anna with the weight of something ancient, something cruel. She was light. The kind of light that blinds. You, on the other hand, were the soft candle left burning in the church long after the choir stopped singing.

You were not her.

And he—he never looked at you the way he looked at Anna.

Until he did.

But by then… it was far too late.

── .✦

II. THE FALL

There was a night—the night it all split open.

He was feverish, haunted. Nosferatu’s curse bled from his skin like ink. You found him crumpled in the cathedral ruins, whispering her name like a prayer—Anna, Anna, Anna—as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing into ash.

You knelt beside him, hands trembling, heart breaking.

“Friedrich,” you whispered. But he didn’t hear you.

Only her name passed through those cracked lips.

You should have left him there. But love makes masochists of us all.

So you stayed. You wrapped your arms around his broken body, even as the night swallowed you both. And when he reached for you in his delirium, mistaking your warmth for hers, and kissed you—God—you let him.

Because you were nothing if not loyal to your own destruction.

── .✦

III. THE AFTERMATH

He didn’t speak to you for days after that night. Not a glance, not a word. Just that tortured silence of his.

But you saw it.

The change.

He looked at Anna like she was the sun. But he looked at you like you were the stars—distant, yes, but constant. Always there. Always waiting.

And still… he said nothing.

You cried in the chapel one evening, when you thought no one could see. The pews were empty. The sky outside was bleeding.

But he saw.

He always saw.

── .✦

IV. THE TURNING

When Anna left—when she chose another—you expected to find Friedrich broken.

Instead, you found him quiet.

A dangerous kind of quiet.

He came to you that night, soaked in rain, cloak dragging behind him like a shroud. You didn’t move from your place at the window, didn’t flinch when he dropped to his knees before you, head bowed like a penitent.

“Say something,” he rasped. “Please. Anything.”

You blinked. “Why? So you can hear my voice and pretend it’s hers again?”

He flinched. Good. Let it hurt.

“I was blind,” he whispered. “And worse—I was a coward.”

You didn’t respond.

He crawled closer, his forehead resting against your thigh now. “I see you now,” he murmured. “Not as a shadow to her flame. You were always the fire. I was too much of a fool to notice until I burned.”

You pushed him away, stood up. The silence between you was almost holy.

“I needed you to love me first,” you said softly. “Not when she was gone. Not when I was convenient.”

“I didn’t fall in love with you because you were there,” he choked. “I fell because you never left—even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“You still don’t,” you whispered.

── .✦

V. THE BEGGING

“I’ll earn it,” he swore. “Even if I must worship the earth you walk on, follow in your shadow, crawl through the dust just to be near you.”

You turned away, heart in your throat.

“Please,” he begged. Begged. “Say you hate me. Curse me. Slap me. Just—don’t walk away.”

You spun around, eyes blazing.

“I do hate you,” you spat. “For all the nights I spent praying you’d see me. For the times you called her name while holding me. For breaking something in me that I didn’t even know could break.”

Friedrich’s face crumbled. “Then hate me. But let me love you now. Let me stay.”

You stepped forward. He reached for you like a dying man reaching for God.

And finally—finally—you let him touch you.

── .✦

VI. THE REDEMPTION

He did what he promised.

He worshipped you.

He touched you like you were made of stars, loved you with the ache of a man who almost lost his soul. He never said her name again. Only yours. Again and again, like a rosary.

You weren’t second choice.

You were the last choice.

The only one.

The final chapter in a book written in blood, silence, and yearning.

And when he kissed you again—not in delirium, not in grief, but in truth—the ache inside you softened into something tender, something eternal.

── .✦

VII. THE END

He no longer lived in the shadows.

He lived in you.

And for the first time in forever… you weren’t alone.

You were chosen.

You were seen.

You were loved.

And as he held your face, whispering, “I was always yours. I was just too blind to see it,” you wept—not for what was lost.

But for what was finally, finally found.

[chuelectrico20]

I got bored and decided to make this (don’t take it too seriously it’s very surface leveled for the most part and drawn at like night) because I like little details of characters from different continuities and the alterations specifically how much the environment affects the characters.

Like for Sonic needing to be now a movie protagonist for general audiences (not just the already established game audience this is important) they need an origin and what’s easier to gain audience sympathy then your protagonist losing a loved one especially a guardian but I’m glad Longclaw stays relevant throughout Sonic’s adventures and she isn’t a one off. With that loss and being sent to a new environment by force and 10 year self isolation Sonic isn’t exactly mentally well and is more prone to emotional outbursts and decisions which I wish people remembered bc when making comparisons to modern Sonic (which already is a discourse in of itself) to understand that this sonic specifically having such a drastically different origin is going to effect his characterization more majorly compared to the others.

Knuckles is also effected by this environment change no longer like game Knuckles who already had a duty and purpose in guarding the Master Emerald when first meeting his character movie Knuckles actually shares his origin with movie Sonic, in that he actually grew up with the Echidnas but loss them the same day Sonic lost longclaw, because of this alteration movie Knuckles is more loss and always questioning his place in life and unlike game Knuckles who’s nativity comes from little to no social interaction with others for a long period of time and his belief that there’s always good in others movie Knuckles is more willing to get along with someone if they have a similar goal in mind, and because of his reputation throughout the galaxy is aware that others will take advantage of him but he still trusts them anyways out of desperation.

The one who doesn’t seem to be that different on first watch and appearance is Tails but they both actually sport some major differences too if you actually look closer. Both origins are similar enough but their first meeting with Sonic effects their personality through out the rest of their appearances. Game Tails technology is more associated with transportation especially from the beginning of his appearances like the Tornado and described in most descriptions as a mechanic but because of the introduction of Rings as a standard for all types of transportation in the movies Tails has more weapon based gadgets like his ray gun, boomerang and anti gravity device. Even the difference of independence is different where because of his time with Sonic modern Tails wants to stand on his own more often movie Tails actually acts more independent on first appearance even going on his own terms to find Sonic rather than meeting by accident. As well it’s funny looking at both Tails more deeply and realizing how much nicer game Tails is compared to movie Tails, movie Tails kinda doesn’t care for most people outside of his immediate family and is more purposefully blunt compared to modern Tails who’s more likely to roast when he’s with Sonic and unintentionally say some blunt stuff and even goes in an indirect way of trying to tell people off. Funnily enough you can tell this difference with Tailstube #11 and movie Tails interaction with the other human characters in the movies.

[decepti-thots]

arcee for the ask meme?

one aspect about them i love:

you know, idw arcee does not get enough credit for sometimes being funny as fuck and, in a broader sense, weirdly... maybe chill isn't the right word and yet. sort of! she's so completely unimpressed by all the clowns doing clown shit around her, even the ones she broadly likes and even usually respects to some degree; arcee has lived so much longer than 99.9% of the people she interacts with basically ever, and seen so much shit that makes it hard to see the current shitshow that is Cybertron trying to re-establish itself as some unprecedented disaster or whatever, that she's very. refreshingly blunt and inclined to even a certain level of irreverence at times that bounces off the people around her incredibly well as a character. optimus tries to angst about having seen soooo much terrible shit and arcee's like 'shut up whippersnapper lmaoooo' and it's great and very necessary. UNPHASED, that's the word i wanted rather than chill! she's delightfully unphased.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them:

basically anything about idw arcee that relates to her not being hyper-violent, lmao. i gotta be real. but specifically, that she's introspective! one of the most introspective characters in exRiD, i would say! arcee struggles to understand herself but not for lack of trying, and she's not a thoughtless 'haha violence and murder fun' machine, just incorrectly perceived as such by the people around her and struggling to work out how to establish herself as more than that after what she's been through. arcee has a lot of thoughts about her role on a post-war cybertron, on the autobots and her decision to join them, on the people around her and who she works with, on how they treat her. but too often she gets portrayed as 'just wants to know where the next fight is' for a joke, which completely flattens her into a caricature.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character:

arcee's voice is like. really loud. zero volume control. even when she whispers she sounds weirdly loud. everyone is too intimidated by her to tell her to keep it down and she wouldn't care even if they did so she just cheerfully goes on her way bursting into any room like HEY WHAT'S UP at full volume. god bless her.

one character i love seeing them interact with:

i actually really like her dynamic with optimus in exRiD and especially when you get to like, the OP ongoing and Unicron; she's simultaneously very much wanting to be on his side and work with him but also just not awed by him at all the way others- even those who really don't like Optimus- wind up being. his reputation is not impressive to her, neither in a positive or a negative sense, because again, arcee is old as balls and has seen much more of cybertronian history than everyone else around her, and understands him as a part of a cycle of history. she's seen the entire concept of a 'prime' be invented for political reasons and she's seen the original claims to that title fall; it's not that it means nothing to her, but it means something very different

and what i think i like best is that despite optimus screwing so much up during that part of the comics, in ways that specifically relate to buying into his own hype and misusing the power it affords him as a direct result, he clearly values keeping arcee around for this very reason. she punctures his ego with no fuss and is really the sole person not only willing but even capable of doing that. it creates a dynamic he has with her there's really not an equivalent to anywhere else. i really do love it. we need more of them being Weird Friends.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more:

I WISH WE COULD HAVE SEEN HER AND ANODE ACTUALLY INTERACT...... i love that they canonically know each other and i think they'd be a hysterically funny duo because they're both complete wildcards but arcee is from a fucking grimdark sci-fi epic and anode is from a heist movie about being a lovable rogue. all i want is for them to be the weirdest double act ever. arcee would definitely help anode and lug do a bank robbery but she has to keep being told to put the swords away. and the big gun. and the small gun. and-

and then they all go down the pub and tell extremely weird stories about their extremely weird lives. good times.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character:

arcee and prowl definitely have some kind of final talk post-canon that is very tense and awkward, and which arcee initiates specifically because the idea of leaving anything unsaid there (and therefore giving prowl any remaining emotional power over her, however small) pisses her off. it leaves her unhappy but ultimately feeling like she cleared the air and prowl feeling weird and uncomfortable and like that was the opposite of closure, i think. and now arcee never has to think about him again.

[honeydippedfiction]

can we know more about Angel? I just know she’s a big reader

Don't get her started, she loooves a good smutty romance novel or even a cheesy cowboy one.

She loves horror movies or anything spooky (despite Joe's wariness).

She has a few tattoos. (A drunken game of dare or die lead to her getting Joe's initials when they were first together at LSU, boy nearly jumped her when he seen it).

She had an emo phase in high school. The hair- dyed and cut. Piercings? Yup; septum, both nostrils, & snake bites. (Joe still hasn't seen any photos and she swears he never will in his life).

She played volleyball all throughout middle school until she graduated University, she also did competitve cheerleading.

She's just as competitive if not more than Joe.

She's quiet but don't take that for being scared, she'll drag somebody real quick (ask this girl back at LSU about it).

She is a biter. Joe has grown used to it by now, she just can't help herself and it doesn't help that her husband looks the way he does.

Her and Casamigos do not mix! She will turn into a completely different person.

She has a semi dark sense of humor.

She's the one who gave Joe the idea to change his hair (Slim Shiesty).

She loves longhorns (not the team) and those one fluffy cows (i'm too lazy to look up the name).

She knows Joe hates zoos but she tries to convince him to go just so she can see the otters or penguins.

She only lets Joe help her cook if he can keep his hands to himself (which is never).

She loves Spirit Halloween, Joe swears he has to keep her on a leash or else she would buy the whole store.

She likes pulling pranks on Joe as well (scaring him, nerf battles, you name it). They have an ongoing battle to this day with water guns.

She likes to vent her emotions through music sometimes (that one scene in Lilo & Stitch with Lilo and the record player, that's Angel).

She has read fanfics of Joe and shown him (he has never blushed so hard in his life at some of the words she's read aloud to him).

Likes to call Joe grandpa or old man.

She originally went to school to be a paramedic (she is licensed just not practicing).

She has dibble dabbled with girls before, she's pansexual and very open about it.

When she can't sleep she'll watch First 48 or random stuff on YouTube. (Joe has been scared awake by sirens from COPS multiple times). Or she'll go sit on their backyard swing looking at the stars.

Her and Ja'Marr argue (jokingly) about who has Joe's heart.

Loves to do puzzles, any kind.

Back to her piercings, now she only has her lobes, belly button, and nips.

Loves building legos with Joe.

Their fridge is always stocked with Sunny D because she hates the taste of actual orange juice.

She taught Joe about the Cranberry and Pineapple juice secret.

A bottomless pit when it comes to food.

[shortlikerdj]

Marvel Movies I Think Are Underrated: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

I DON'T HEAR PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THIS MOVIE ENOUGH OHMYGOD-

I mean sure, Bucky looked smoking hot in this film..

And I've thought that once scene where the little kid saw Steve at the museum was adorable.

And we're gonna ignore the fact that I cry every single time over the Bucky memorial in the museum, cause Marvel why you gotta rub it in like that-

BUT THE FIGHT SCENES HOLY CRAP-

They were fast, brutal, and definitely not pulling any punches. The fight scenes felt real. And there was barely any CGI (Ignoring the explosives).

We got to see The Winter Soldier in action.

We got to see HYDRA in action, unfortunately.

WE GOT TO SEE NATASHA HERSELF IN ACTION.

Plus we got Sam too, gotta love him.

THE ELEVATOR SCENE

THE BRIDGE SCENE

Need I say more?

We got to see what happened to Bucky after he fell from the train, abuse and all I literally can't stand to hear him screaming, Sebastian did a outstanding job at his role

We also got to see Natasha and Steve's friendship dynamic as well! (I've honestly always been a Romanogers fan lol)

And Rumlow.. my god.. his actor (Frank Grillo) portrayed him VERY well. His character is one of those people that just makes me shudder thinking about him.

AND BUCKYYYYYYYY THIS POOR SOULLL

He has always been a favorite character of mine not just because he's played by sebastian stan, I have no clue what you are talking about his story is so tragic. I remember being 8 years old, seeing him fall from the train, and was in tears

THIS POOR BABY JUST NEEDS A BREAKKK

Here's some fun facts:

-Hawkeye was originally supposed to make an appearance

-Samuel L. Jackson's Grandfather was actually an Elevator operater

-Anthony Mackie really wanted a role as a Marvel character. He originally auditioned for Black Panther, but ended up with Falcon.

-This movie came out the same year as the first Guardians of the Galaxy

-The Winter Soldier's Theme is actually Bucky's screams mixed and distorted (which is actually kinda awful-)

[moonsdrs]

ᯓ★ ANSWER AS YOUR DRSELF (challengers dr ver.) — original questions by zaddizu

what is your name? — london rochelle dunn

favorite food? — healthy? chicken wraps or salads. unhealthy? cheese burgers and fries. snack? powdered mini donuts

can you only choose one movie to watch for the rest of your life, what would you choose? — i'm not really a person who likes watching movies. a tv show i'd watch over and over again though would be criminal minds.

what is your birthday? — november 24, 1987

what is a song you will always have a place for in your heart? —for the girl who has everything by nsync

favorite color, go! — blue. but not light blue. i like a good dark blue. like navy.

name the most important thing to you. — my racquets. they are my lifeline and something i put a lot of dedication and time into crafting.

favorite memory? — during the time of working on my brand with wilson. i loved seeing vintages racquets as well as being able to go into their heritage capsules, picking out which designs speak to me to be able to reimagine for my own.

least favorite memory? — stanford. we don't talk about it.

someone you dislike? — tashi. more like i dislike her because i can't handle the buried feelings i still harbor for her even after she'd broke my heart when i became pro.

in a crowded room, who would you look for first? — a familiar friend. usually floating towards my own team like my coach(es) or old friends from the court.

best music genre? — pop. hands down.

a topic you defend with your life. — the validity of women's sports and importance of women in various fields.

a character you relate to? — eeyore

picture your room, is it organised or messy? — always has to be organised. mainly just because i am gone from home often, i'd hate to walk into a messy home, overstimulated from feeling sweaty and hot from practice or tired from coming back out of state/country.

gun to your head... are you funny? — well, with a gun to my head i don't think i'd be very humorous.

fruit platter or candy platter? — my heart says candy platter. my brain says fruit.

sugar, sour or spice? — sugar.

what's your aesthetic? — very much rich girl. put together, hair always done, nails always shiny and clipped.

who in your dr would you not be surprised if they came out as a shifter? — i'm unsure. tashi? no tea no shade but the acl tear is giving angst script in.

what's your hogwarts house? — ravenclaw.

ambivert, introvert or extrovert? — introvert but in the spotlight i slowly become an ambivert.

best school subject? — english

where can soneone find you when you're sad? — in my house, on the couch and watching a tennis match rerun of mine or calling home to mom

who are you? — london dunn. a tennis professional that has more talent than just with a racquet in her hand.

someone's music you don't enjoy? — oof..hard one..backstreet boys. not even because the music is bad (it's not) i just hold a grudge against them as a die hard nsync fan.

have you had a near death experience? — no, let's keep the good vibes going.

who was your first love? do you regret it? — my first love was..is tashi. i don't regret it. she helped me find who i am today and played a huge hand indirectly to motivate me to keep going. i just regret not being able to keep her around and help her more after her injury.

[aliciavance4228]

Off-topic, but this reminds me of the way Disney tried to turn Maleficent into a broken victim instead of a pure evil woman, and in the process managed to ruin the core themes from the original movie, and changed the characters' personalities entirely.

One aspect Maleficent has in common with Medusa is the cosmeticization of their appearences, while consequently trying to project this idea that people hated them because they were terrifying monsters or something between these lines.

This is Maleficent in the original movie VS. the Angelina Jolie version:

Why isn't my girl green? Please explain!

Next, we have the Rape/SA themes, and this idea that the reason why they turned out to be evil is the fact that they were wronged by a man all this time, not because they were genuinely malevolent.

In the Maleficent movie Stefan was turned into a metaphorical rapist who cut off her wings, when in the original movie not only that he didn't have any sort of connection with Maleficent to begin with, but besides trying to protect his daughter he doesn't really do anything in the movie. On this note I would also like to point out that, while prince Philip didn't receive such a dirty treatment, they erased a lot of his personality and attributes, which is why he ended up being this hot arm candy for princess Aurora rather than his own character. Also let's be real, he's not serving the way he used to:

Then we have Aurora. Now, this was indeed a weak point for the original movie, namely that Aurora barely has any screentime, let aside lines. This could've been a chance to explore her character, her life, her relationship with the fairies, her romantic life etc. Yet the only sort of evolution from her that we get is always raported to her relationship with Maleficent and the way she perceives her. We barely get her point of view or perspective. And her reunion with her parents ends up getting ruined by her father's cartoonish evilness, because of fricking course! Furthermore, in this case she's not saved by prince Philip because romantic love is weak and pathetic, but by the exact same woman who cursed her in the first place. Does this remind you of something?

Turning back to the previous point, part of the reason why Aurora had such little screentime in the first place in the original movie was because she isn't the main character. The main characters are the three fairy godmothers who took care of her and raised her all these years, and who actually mattered in her life instead of Maleficent. Yet in the Maleficent film they become useless and uncapable to understand how do humans work, which is why we need our slay dark queen to make the plot continue by asking her raven to give food to that baby regularly so that she won't die due to starvation. And of coursly it isn't a fairy who manages to twist the curse so that Aurora could be awakened by a true love's kiss, but the slay dark queen herself. This part mirrors the way figures such as Danaë or Athena are constantly demonized or erased, and their contribution remains ignored or unacknowledged.

This isn't just a Greek Mythology problem, but a fictional problem in general. People would look at a piece of work that is old enough to be considered outdated and non-representative for today's modern principles and values, then try to "fix it" by completely changing it without bothering to engage themselves with the original work or its core themes (which is why most of the time this reimaginations end up being more bigoted than the original source material).

A criminally underexplored concept is to interpret Medusa as a deliciously evil Disney-esque villain, like instead of a poor innocent girl who did nothing wrong, she’s an older woman who hates her mortality and vulnerability and would do any sort of evil deed to gain immortality. Think the old version of Yzma and just replace “eternal youth” with “eternal life”.

[fenicearts420]

Gee, thanks Universal for ruining my favorite movie of all time. Much appreciated.